


A Jolt of Espresso

by Leela, qafmaniac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Jealous Derek, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Possessive Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela, https://archiveofourown.org/users/qafmaniac/pseuds/qafmaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unwillingly, one begrudged step at a time, Derek makes his way over to the table where Stiles is sitting with that guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Jolt of Espresso

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moodwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/gifts).



> **Betas** : @aislinntlc
> 
>  **A/N** : For @moodwriter, in exchange for her donation to keep @qafmaniac's pretty things up and running. Hope you like this, bb. ♥ ♥
> 
> My thanks to @valress, who brainstormed with me when my muse was throwing up roadblocks.

Stiles is in the café when Derek walks in. His head is so close to the guy sitting next to him that their hair is touching, and even worse, Stiles is letting the guy look at his laptop. His fucking laptop!

Gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw cracks, Derek manages to stop the growl that wants to rumble through his chest. The inner lining of the pockets of his leather jacket aren't so lucky — his claws slice through the silk — but he's gotten used to repairing them. 

A little effort and a lot of practice mean that Derek's hands are back to normal by the time he hits the front of the line and has to pull out money for the barista. She smiles at him, giving him one of those looks, and he does his best not to return it with a scowl. The way she almost tosses him a latte that can't possibly be his convinces him that he failed.

Derek turns away from the counter. The guy behind him steps out of his way with a muttered apology, which doesn't help Derek's mood at all. He's halfway to the door when he's stopped in his tracks. 

"Yo! Derek!" Stiles waves his hand in the air, as if Derek could possibly not know where he is. 

It's tempting to pretend he didn't hear, but Derek knows that Stiles wouldn't believe him. And no matter what he wants, Derek can't turn his back on Stiles. Unwillingly, one begrudged step at a time, he makes his way over to the table where Stiles is sitting with that guy.

"Hey." Stiles smiles brightly. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Of course you weren't, Derek thinks, but all he does is raise his paper coffee cup in Stiles's direction.

"This is Dominic," Stiles says, turning that smile — the one that Stiles had given to Derek — on the human at his side. The human with smeared lip-gloss. 

And Stiles has lips that are a brighter pink than usual.

"Dude, your cup is leaking. Like all over the floor and everything. You need to take care of that." 

Giving his cup the vicious glare he'd like to aim at Dominic, Derek retracts his claws from the thin cardboard and lets Stiles take it from him. 

"I'll just get you a new one," Stiles says, and then he's gone, leaving Derek alone with Dominic. 

For want of anything better to do, Derek pulls an empty chair out from the table and sits down. There's a long line, he tells himself. It doesn't make any sense at all to stand here, looming.

"Known Stiles long?" Dominic swipes his tongue over his lips, and Derek imagines pulling it out of his mouth. 

"Since he was in high school," Derek says. He reaches for Stiles's cup, tests its weight and finds it's half-full.

"That's Stiles's coffee, you know."

"I know." Slouching down in his chair, Derek stretches out his legs, hitting Dominic in the shin with the toe of one boot.

Dominic flinches and moves his feet out of the way. "Stiles and I were just—"

Bringing the cup to his mouth, Derek gives Dominic a narrow-eyed glare and takes a long slow drink of Stiles's too-sweet black coffee jolted by a shot of espresso.

"Oh, huh, well," Dominic stutters.

"Don't be a greedy wolf," Stiles says, tapping Derek's hand before taking his own cup back and giving Derek a new one.

"Wolf?" Dominic looks from one of them to the other, wide-eyed. 

"Just an old nickname." Derek slings an arm over the back of Stiles's chair and bares his teeth at Dominic in something he hopes looks like a smile. "Like I said, we've known each other a long time."

Dominic makes an _eep_ noise and shifts his chair further away from Stiles.

Stiles frowns at Derek. "Sometimes it seems like too long."

Stung, Derek pulls his arm back and straightens up in his chair. Before he can say anything in response, Stiles closes the lid on his laptop.

"We were just finishing up," Stiles says, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye at Derek. "With this part anyway. We need more information," Stiles pauses, "from the library."

Dominic, who's clearly not anywhere near intelligent enough for Stiles, looks confused for a moment. Then he nods, his head bouncing on his too-long, easy-to-snap neck. "The library. Yeah. We need to go there and... ummm... finish studying."

Huffing out a breath, Stiles stuffs his laptop into his backpack and stands up. He seems to hesitate for a second, but then he says, "Later, Derek," and heads off with Dominic scurrying behind.

Derek sits, looking out the window for long minutes after they've left. Finally, he gets up, puts his untouched coffee on the table and leaves.

When he gets to his car, Stiles is leaning against the hood. Dominic is nowhere in sight, although Derek can still smell traces of him. 

"You're an asshole," Stiles says. "A complete asshole, who's probably not even sorry that Dominic took off and abandoned me here."

There's nothing for Derek to say to that. It's not as if he can deny the accusation no matter how much it hurts coming from Stiles. So he just shrugs and moves to the driver's side.

"Seriously, dude, what the hell was that?"

Ignoring him, Derek shoves a hand in his jacket pocket, tugs his keys free from the torn lining. His car unlocks with a beep. He pauses when he feels Stiles come up behind him, bending his head to hide the flare of his nostrils as Stiles's scent wraps around him. His lupine instincts curl beneath the surface of his mind, trying to force him into doing something that he can't. Something he's sure Stiles wouldn't welcome.

"I was getting paid for that," Stiles says.

Derek's head comes up with a jerk, and he spins around to stare with disbelief at Stiles, who thankfully keeps on talking.

"Do you have any idea how much Dominic's parents are willing to throw my way if I can help to get their son into the college of their dreams?" Stiles waves his hands in frustration. "It's way more than I made all of last summer, and I had plans for that money. Important plans. Plans that—" 

Needing to shut him up, Derek claps a hand over Stiles's mouth. Stiles bites Derek's palm, catching the skin between his teeth. The sensation tears at Derek's control. He can feel his eyes flashing red with need, with hunger, with desire, and a growl rips its way through him.

Stiles doesn't move. Instead he stills, his eyes looking directly into Derek's, and he sucks on Derek's skin.

"Don't," Derek grits the word out, fighting every instinct he has. 

This time, Stiles's response is to lick Derek's palm. His tongue is soft and wet, warm.

Yanking his hand away, Derek curls it into a fist, protecting the sensation of Stiles's mouth on his skin. "Don't," he repeats, because he can't tell Stiles to do it again. He can't, not when Stiles doesn't want him.

"Derek?" Stiles says and then, "Oh."

The shock of surprise in Stiles's voice makes it impossible for Derek not to look at him. But he has no way to interpret the expression on Stiles's face. 

"I didn't—" Stiles fidgets, runs a hand through his hair. "Should I have?"

It's probably hopeless and worse than stupid, but Derek can still feel Stiles's touch, can smell the arousal that's beginning to wind through Stiles's confusion, and he just can't resist. He leans forward, his lips a breath away from Stiles's mouth, and slides his hand around the back of Stiles's neck and up into his hair. 

Derek kisses Stiles, breathes him in and tastes him.

It's the best, most wonderful mistake he's made in a life littered with them, because Stiles doesn't kiss him back.

Before he can know how badly he fucked up, Derek releases Stiles and dives into his car. He's got the key in the ignition when Stiles wrenches the door open.

"No," Stiles says. "You don't get to do that. You just don't."

The word _Sorry_ sticks in Derek's throat, choking him. He presses his foot on the accelerator, turns the key and lets the roar of the engine speak for him.

Instead of backing away, letting him go like a sensible human would, Stiles reaches in and engages the hand brake. "You're not going anywhere," he says. "You're going to wait for me to get into the passenger seat and then you're going to take me home so we can talk." After a moment, Stiles adds, "Your home."

The drive is silent. Neither of them speaks and the radio is dead, not having survived Derek's irritation with the last song it attempted to play. Eventually though, Derek's pulling into his parking space and following Stiles into the building and up to his loft.

As Stiles opens the door and walks inside, Derek can't help but wonder when, and why, he gave Stiles keys to his place. He doesn't ask though; even he has more sense than that. Instead, he waits, just inside the door, and watches Stiles lay his backpack on the couch and come back to stand in front of him.

"You kissed me," Stiles says. His scent is a confused mess of emotions that tells Derek nothing.

Setting his jaw against the twisting of the wolf inside him, Derek admits, "I did."

"I mean, you like _kissed me_ kissed me."

Derek nods, wishing Stiles would just get to the damn point so he could get the bottle of scotch out of his cupboard and attempt to get drunk.

But Stiles doesn't. He flings himself at Derek, knocks their noses together, and crushes his mouth against Derek's. 

After a moment of shock, Derek slides a hand up Stiles's back, tilts Stiles's head, and takes over the kiss. He nips at Stiles's lips. 

It's stiff and awkward, and Stiles doesn't react. Derek wonders if he's made another mistake. Then Stiles makes a desperate, almost broken noise. His mouth opens. His tongue touches Derek's lips. 

He smells like submission, like he's Derek's, and Derek can do nothing else but give everything he has, everything he is to Stiles.


End file.
